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Monday, August 29, 2016

A Letter.

Dear Dr. X
You probably don’ t remember me, but I remember you very well. Two years ago I attended Georgia Southern University. I was a SOAR leader and you helped with our sessions. I always admired you as a well-spoken and thoughtful person, who was passionate about helping students transition to college. You seemed like someone I could trust. Especially, as a black woman. Anyways, the following semester I came to you in the middle of a school-induced panic attack. I was going through a lot of stress that semester. I had just come out to my mom, I had just begun experiencing anxiety, and I was unsure of where I was headed. Because of this, I wasn’t able to focus or study well for school, and I missed my test after not being able to sleep. You helped me, and then directed me to the on-campus health clinic. The next day, my professor said that I could not make up my test until I had documentation I was at your office. I called the counseling center multiple times, and the nice receptionist told me to come in.
When I came in, I guess you had just gotten in from your lunch break. You were completely rude with me. You talked to me like I was a child, and scolded me for unknowingly interrupting your lunch break. I felt worthless. The way you treated me was even worse than you refusing to write a letter for me. Which I think you did out of spite. After that incident I continued having my anxiety attack, self-harmed, was committed to the hospital in savannah. I medically withdrew from school, and took a semester off. I believe my mother called you trying to gain information on where I was, and she said during that phone call you were completely unprofessional and rude as well. 
This letter isn’t a sad story about how you ruined me, or ruined my life. This letter is a thank you note. I now attend Kennesaw State University and I graduate in the spring. I currently work on campus with adults with learning disabilities. I am an activist, and a writer, and a student leader. I am applying for MSW programs in the Fall, and I know I will attend a very highly ranked school. I have successful relationships with my friends, family, and peers. I want to be a counselor so I can help other students like me. After attending counseling at Kennesaw with an MSW student, I learned that there are good and caring counselors out there. People who consistently treat others with respect.  I couldn’t have done all of this without your help. Your complete rudeness towards me gave me the fuel I needed to help others. The way you treated me, showed me exactly the ways that I do NOT want to practice with my clients. By dehumanizing me, you gave me the strength to accept every person that may possibly need my help, and that is why I continue to work hard. 
I don’t know you. I don’t know much about your practice, other than the fact that a quick google search has shown me you’ve won some awards. I don’t know if you’re a good person, or I don’t know if you’re a good psychologist. All I know is the one interaction we’ve had, and I know how hurtful it was. So, if this behavior is not reflective of who you are as a person, or as a Black woman, I ask that you may remember this letter in the future. I ask that you may remember your behavior has impact on people, once they leave your office. I ask that maybe just one time, you cut your lunch break a little bit short to take time to talk to a student who clearly needed help.
Thank you.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

On Being Black and Angry

(Hi yall sorry I've been missing. Life is good.)

This post is difficult for me to write, because there are so many things running through my head as I write this. I guess I'm just going to explain to yall the difficult relationship I have with anger, and why expressing my emotions is so liberating, but also scary and traumatic for me.

I've seen a lot of (white) feminist friends embrace their angriness and make it part of their identity. They're tired fo men telling them to smile, they're tired of being harassed, they're angry about women's rights, queer rights, etc. I agree. I'm angry too. But I just, I want to think about who that anger is reserved for? It's easy to reclaim the term angry, and attach it to your womanhood, when you're not already automatically viewed as masculine, inherently violent, inherently angry, simply for being black.

Growing up, I had always heard the expression angry black woman. I didn't really have any angry black women in my life though. My mother, I love her to death, but she is very passive and calm. My aunts are as well. I was always the angriest person I knew while growing up. It wasn't that I was just bitter, it's the fact that I've always been sincerely bothered by forms of injustice. Even when I was a little girl, if I felt as though something wasn't just or fair, I HAD to do something. I remember being in elementary school and telling on the boys in my class for inspecting if we were wearing bras, making fun of Native Americans, and a subtely racist comment my librarian said. I remember starting a petition when Lizzie McGuire was being canceled. In high school, if we were cheerleading, you did NOT want to make me irritated. I remember one day, a friend saw my tumblr and said "You just seem to have a lot of anger. Why ARE black women so angry?" In that moment, I lacked the language to explain why. I went home and vague blogged and cried for a minute or two.

In college, I was known for being outspoken. I say this in past tense because at my current school, I don't really have the typical college experience. But anyways, I was the girl who messed up a conference when I disagreed with someone hosting it. I would write in the paper. I would call out my boss, co-workers, anyone when I felt like they were being wrong or offensive. I'm not afraid of confrontation, ever.

 I never thought I would be seen as aggressive though. I'm naturally bubbly and have a high pitched voice. I lean towards things that are seen as feminine, or "girly." People know to never make me mad, but they also know that I can be soft and sweet, and would do anything for my friends.

It was at a national summit, for YP4. A progressive fellowship. This experience was draining in ways that I can't break down in this post, but I will acknowledge that it took me over a year to write about it until now. I had gotten on stage (like other POC) to call out behavior we had seen at the conference. I think I made a statement referencing people who attended a regional training in New York. A man I had never seen before tried to cut me off in the crowd, and I continued. After people were done talking, I walked up to the man and told him that as a Black, Queer woman, we rarely get the chance to speak and I didn't appreciate he cutting me off. He then stepped forward, towards my friend (who is also a woman) as though we were trying to fight him. After that, it was madness. He was calling us sweetie, I was getting more mad, my masculine and male friends were trying to calm him down, I was upset. Eventually, we came to some sort of weird agreement, but the situation made me feel really... ugly?

This man. This cis man, saw that I was upset. And because I was upset, he thought that I was going to fight him. I had never had that experience before. In my world, women do NOT fight men, because MEN are stronger and angrier, and women are weaker and calmer. Why would a man think that I would fight him? I would lose of course? Unless of course, this man doesn't see me as a woman. He doesn't see me as something he should respect or cherish, or take care of, because he does not see my womanhood, even when I am angry. That's when I realized. Angriness, is truly not for black women.

I started noticing it in little situations. A black man would hold the door open for everyone but me. Men on campus walk directly into me, and don't apologize. I'm not treated like a man, I'm treated like a masculine piece of nothing. I think it has to do with my stature as well. I'm really tall. But also, my complexion. My dark-skinned friends who are cis women are sometimes adressed as "sir" even while wearing stereotypically feminine clothing. I don't have to reclaim angriness because angrieness was already placed upon me.

In my last relationship, I was arguing with my partner. The situation was tense and heated. My partners friend was in the car. He, a cis man, started yelling at me. Eventually, he threatened to fight me. Later, when I brought this up to my ex, they said "he wouldn't have really done it." This situation was, and still is traumatic. Once again, not because of fear of physical violence, but because I realized that my femininity is often stripped of me. These situations, opened up the old wombs of blackness and colorism. Was there a point in identifying as femme/a woman if I was always going to be seen as violent and scary? Am I hideous to men? Would anyone find me attractive? Would I ever be treated like a woman?

A lot of therapy helped, but it still really sucks to be honest. Dating is difficult. Dating people lighter than me is super difficult. Dating people who have dated people lighter than me is painful. Being around men is painful. Finding myself attractive is hard. I've had to confront so many times the fact that the way that I look and feel can change the way I'm treated drastically. I had some drama with a man who was lighter than me this year, and seeing the way he was framed as a victim was exhausting for me. I feel like whenever I express an emotion other than happiness, no one questions where my anger is coming from. Instead they just see me as someone willing to lash out.

I think people often question why I'm so vocal on social media, and in person. They don't get why I care, why I call people out, why I'm so emotional, why I'm so angry. It's because I WANT to make you uncomfortable. I want you to be scared. I want you to confront the fact that I am willing to call someone out in public, and I'm willing to wear lipstick and dresses. I'm willing to be tough, and angry, and strong, and none of those facts impact my femmeness one bit. I don't have to smile to make you comortable. I don't have to soften myself to fix YOUR racism. You WILL respect my opinions, and you WILL respect my anger, and you WILL deal with how that makes you feel.

After the YP4 incident, I found myself apologizing to one of the men that helped descalate the situation. I think I said I was sorry for acting crazy, and I ddn't want him to think less of me. Two years later he brought up how that was weird. I agreed. It was weird. I am not sorry. I did nothing wrong.



Friday, February 12, 2016

Facebook Statuses

I wanted to find a way to archive my statuses, so here ya go!

February 12th

I know it's been said before but I'm really trying to find the appropriate amount of accountability for people who are mentally ill?
For one, I know, that when I am going through things I have probably hurt people unintentionally, and been completely blind to it. I've just been thinking about how most of the people I interact with have mental illnesses, and how I really struggle with calling people out on their behavior. Like what am I supposed to ignore, accept, deal with? Where is the line? Am I giving these people the same amount of consideration they're giving me? What's the line between loving people despite their "flaws" and letting people completely walk over you? Does anyone have the answers to these never-ending questions?
Don't even get me started between knowing the difference between leaning on your friends for emotional support, and being unhealthy/draining. I do this thing where I'm like wow. Everyone sucks. I'm gonna make a call out post. And then the same people who hurt me interact with the things I write on here/tumblr. So it reminds me that wow. People don't really even know what they're doing. Its so confusing.

February 11th
Let’s talk about the fact that it seems as though no one can criticize Beyoncé. And by no one, I mean, dark skinned black woman like me are not allowed to criticize Beyoncé. The second someone even hints that maybe there’s something problematic with Formation or anything she’s done, in regards to colorism, or light-skin privilege they are instantly silenced and virtually beaten up for it. So that’s triggering for me! I don’t even have an opinion on Formation because I listened to that song one dang time. I don’t have much of an opinion on Beyonce either unless she’s being used as a scapegoat for white feminism. But it is annoying and stressful to see Beyoncé everywhere, because she kind of serves as a reminder that there are certain things we (people that look like me) just can’t do. We can’t call certain people out, and we can’t complain about certain things.
People have valid concerns about the things she does and people I interact with get SO UPSET. They get so mad, and that serves as a reminder that we have to be silent.
We can’t talk about the pain we feel and we can’t divide the movement and we can’t negate peoples blackness. We just have to sit here. We can’t ever mention Zendaya or Amandla or we’re irrational. We can’t share stories of our pain without being met with “well at the end of the day we’re all black.” Heck, I literally can’t even date without questioning if anyone will find me attractive. I can’t interact with people without feeling hideous sometimes. I can’t identify as femme without thinking my skin is inherently masculine.
Like this shit is deep for me! This is MY thing! This is the thing that makes me silent and scared. This is the thing that stops me from talking to everyone. Colorism is freaking traumatic for me. I just feel like people aren’t freaking getting it. People within “the movement” have such basic analysis about this topic. People within “the movement” are sharing the Willie Lynch letter y'all that letter is not freaking real.
I am hurt. And you don’t get to ignore my pain. You don’t get to sit here and tell me I’m beautiful and like my selfies and funny posts and then ignore me when I say this because it makes you feel uncomfortable. We need to talk about this. The fact that sometimes I feel honored that someone lighter than me would find me attractive. The fact that I have to grin and smile as people tell me they avoid going outside so they don't get dark.
I swear the more I feel conventionally attractive the more I feel like people aren’t seeing me. They are looking at me, but they literally are not seeing me.

February 9th
One day when I'm in the emotional space I'm going to write a super long article breaking down colorism and explaining how it's a structural issue instead of just memes and dating preferences. I'm also going to explain that I don't trust your political analysis if you can't seem to comprehend colorism but can comprehend other systems of oppression. I'm also going to expect this article to be completely ignored because I've noticed a theme of people talking about colorism only receiving recognition and being heard when they are light-skinned 😊😊😊😊 and y'all can ignore this status cause it makes you uncomfortable but I really don't care anymore. I'm tired of light skinned people rallying around each other telling each other they're proud of each other for acknowledging colorism when there are people with my complexion and darker being ignored or freaking chastised for talking about it.

February 8th
It's 2:34 am and I'm up thinking about how when we were trying to share the demands certain people couldn't be found, but they're still here asking me for help with organizing. Black students compiled a VERY short list of things our campus could do to help us combat racism, and you couldn't be bothered to read or share it. But the second you get in a situation you want to ask me, a Black woman, to help you with your labor. This isn't me being petty this is me saying I'm not dumb. I remember this stuff when people want to discuss allyship and privilege.


Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Hi I'm Bi.

If anyone were to ask me to define my sexuality, I would change my response depending on the person.

If I was talking to someone I trusted enough to have these conversations with, I would say "I'm attracted to androgyny towards the masculine side, and masculinity in general. I have no preference on gender/identity." If I was talking to someone gay, I would call myself "queer." If I was talking to a straight person I would say "I'm bi." To sum it up, you know how there are some things that matter to people when they're looking for a spouse, and they don't matter to you at all? Like someone could be really focused on a man's height or religion, or political affiliations, but to you, that is all just an afterthought? Well that's how I look at gender. It's an afterthought. It's something I forget about until the very end.

I really have no preference on these answers, because all of them are true. All of them are a part of me.

The first time I heard of the concept of bisexuality was in middle school. Shows like Flavor of Love and I Love New York were taking over Vh1. A commercial for a new series called Tila Tequila's Shot At Love came on. In the show, Tila would be dating both men and women. I had never really thought about the concept before. I just couldn't conceptualize how someone could be attracted to both men, and women. At school, someone came out as bisexual. While talking to my mother about it, she said "I don't believe in that. You either like one, or the other." That, along with my own confusion about bisexuality, along with years of indoctrinated homophobia sealed the deal. Bisexuality was non-existent and bisexuality was bad.

I'm 21 years old now, and I know that's not true. The decision to date people of your same gender, and other genders, is not a political choice. It's not confusion. It's taking people for who they are, at their simplest form. This isn't to say that those who identify as monosexual are close-minded, or wrong. It's to say that bisexuality has given me some grief, but like with most marginalized identities, it's allowed me to see something beautiful.

Since coming out I've heard the microagressions. From my mother labeling me "gay," because I told her I was dating someone who identified as a woman at the time. To a past lover saying "I only love men because of their penises," which is just transphobic and all types of wrong. To being accused of being transphobic for identifying as bi, even though many trans people identify as bisexual. There's also the arguments over the use of the word "femme," and other queer political thought that most straight people wouldn't know about.

I try to stay out of these debates because maybe I still feel as though I'm a baby bi. Most of my friends do not identify as bi, and it can get lonely sometimes. However, this year I've interacted with a lot of awesome Black bi people, and it's made life a lot better.

Of course straight people will question the existence of bisexuality, but it often happens from people within the queer community. I've had people suggest that it's like a light switch. That I should just go back to dating women, or men. Which is wrong, but also those aren't the only genders! Someone told a friend that they were enforcing heteronormativity for having sex with male-identified people even though they identified as bi/pan. The idea that bi people are attention-starved "because that's how the bi people I knew in middle school were." The idea that we are more likely to cheat, when in reality, cheating is just indicative of a selfish person, not a bi person. The list goes on and on, and frankly, I don't have the time.

I'm learning to embrace all parts of me. I'm no longer allowing people to call me a lesbian out of laziness. I'm bisexual. It's not all of me, but it's a part of me. Today is my day.

Monday, September 21, 2015

I love myself.

I can't believe I allowed myself to be in a relationship where I constantly questioned my worth because most times I interacted with that person, I had to deal with mood swings and an overall bad attitude.

 I've been using the past two months to learn about self-love and to change the way I see myself. People have always told me that I'm smart, or driven, articulate, focused, sometimes pretty? I've hard it multiple times and I've appreciated it, and I've seen glimpses of it. However, I haven't internalized it. I haven't accepted these things as fact, and I haven't allowed them to affect the way I see myself.  Now I am. Now I'm able to wake up in the morning and see a gorgeous girl. I see a dedicated friend, a respectful daughter. I see a future world-changer. I see a smart woman. I see a survivor. I see someone who is strong. I see someone growing and changing and improving. I see someone worth loving.

What do you think your life would look like if you internalized compliments? What if you truly believed that you were beautiful? What if you believed that you were unique and valuable? What if you complimented yourself as easily as you compliment your friends? How would your life change? Who would still be there?

 I just know how it feels good to wake up and feel appreciated by friends and family. I know it feels good to have my opinions heard and valued. I know it feels good to know where I stand with someone. It feels good to have doors opened for me, it feels good to be introduced to people, it feels good to feel appreciated. It feels amazing to have people message me and tell me they're happy for me. It feels good to laugh with friends. It feels good to be Kristina. Single, in a relationship, married, skinny, fat. It feels good to be me regardless of any stage I enter in my life. I love myself and that's something that will stand firmly.

It's showing through how I interact with people. It's allowing me to feel calmer and less bitter. I aggressively build myself up. I selfishly do things for myself. I don't settle, I don't enter situations that will make me unhappy. I don't engage with people I don't like. I don't attend events that I don't want to. I don't pretend to be anything I'm not. I treat people's bad behavior as a reflection of them, not a reflection of me.

Many people tell me I'm a good person or they're happy to know me. Now I'm demanding that they act like it. Don't tell me I'm great, show me I'm great. Or expect our interactions to end.

I'm learning that self-love isn't a cute topic for HuffPo articles. I'm learning that self-love saves. Self-love empowers. Self-love is beautiful.

I love myself.


Friday, July 10, 2015

Articles I'm Reading 7/10/2015

Making an effort to read daily is something I'm working on. I can read short blurbs about the news, but I often don't make time to read opinion pieces or editorials. These can help us learn a lot of things that we can apply to whatever issues we are working on. It also allows us to gain insight into how others live. I think constantly learning and acquiring new knowledge should be at the forefront of every activist's life. 
These are articles I’ve saved on facebook or tumblr to read. All of these articles were shared by my awesome friends or even written by some of them. I’m making this post in case anyone is bored or something. I also need to catch up on reading. I’ll go back to these and highlight the ones I’ve read, and bold my favorites.
I hope to publish lists like these every couple of weeks.
Atlanta Gay Bar Taking Heat over Dress Code SIgn
6 Actual Facts on What it Means to be Asexual
Asian Immigrants on TV are Gaining Respect
Latinos Now Outnumber Whites in California
A Response to America’s Response to Donald Trump
The Wrong Way to Stop Prostitution
Accomplices not Allies
We Need to Sop Making Black Women the Mammies of our Movement
13 Trans Latinx Activists Changing The World
Plantation Tour Guide Answered Questions
What Happened to the 9 year old Smoking in Mary Ellen’s picture?
What Marriage Equality Means When You’re Trans
How Colleges Stop Depressed Students from  Returning To Campus
Anti-LGBTQ Violence Down, Homicides Up
Out In The Night, 4 Black Lesbians Self-Defense
The Cisgender Gaze
Black Faith in a Time of White Supremacy
Famed Surgeon Jocelyn Elders Says Bisexuals Must Be Counted
Let the World Know Black Women Don’t Need Help from Appropriators
LGBTQ Youth Deserve Real Education About Sexuality
People Are Finally Talking About What No One Wants to Talk About
Jamie Dimon wants to Mansplain Banking to Elizabeth Warren
Sex Statistics on Queer Women in Relationships
What Does the TPP Mean for Black People?
Hilary Clinton’s Shirt is Actually Really Messed Up

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Lupita and Laverne






On May 13th, 2015, famed actress Lupita Nyong'o wore a beautiful grasshopper green dress to the 2015 Cannes Film Festival. The internet broke.
It seemed as though every entertainment blogger, website, and television show had something positive to say about Lupita. From the way she looked, from the way she twirled, from the way her smile glistened, everyone was in love. Normally, I would have participated in the swooning. I love Lupita. I think she's smart, I think she's likable, I think she's gorgeous. More importantly, I think she's a great person for little dark-skinned Black girls to look up to. But lately, something's been off. Every time People Magazine shares an article on Lupita's beauty, I shudder. Every time Lupita shows up on my Tumblr dashboard with a complimentary caption, I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes. It was starting to confuse me. Wouldn't I be happy to see someone like Lupita gaining so much popularity? 

Then it hit me. There's a post circulating on "Black Tumblr" that pretty much highlights the fact that whenever a dark-skinned Black woman posts a selfie it gets 1,000's of notes. Yet when the same dark-skinned Black woman talks about her lived experiences there is absolute silence. This is the problem. 
The problem is, colorism can cause a lot of emotional trauma for dark-skinned Black women. I've written on it before, so I'll spare you the details. But like any other type of emotional trauma, it's often difficult to talk about. So when we actually take the time to talk about it, it's kind of crappy that it's often ignored. 

So while Lupita's recognition is great, it also sheds a light on something a lot deeper. 

The constant need to force Black women into these cute and commercially marketable packages, without actually listening to what they have to say. This is a very heavy statement, so let me use another popular Black woman as an example. 

Laverne Cox. As one of the stars of the Netflix series Orange is the New Black, Laverne's fame seemed to skyrocket suddenly. She was on Best-dressed lists, the cover of Time magazine, and she seemed to be a constant guest on talk shows. She was a great example of a gorgeous Trans person of color stealing the hearts of fashion bloggers. But like Laverne said in an interview, her fame and popularity didn't stop my friend and Transgender activist Blake Brockington from killing himself this year. It's not Laverne's fault. She has spent years advocating for Trans issues. She has talked about it on multiple TV shows, and interviews. She has dedicated her life to promoting the acceptance of Trans people of color, but guess what she's known for? Being a gorgeous Trans women who's able to pass as a cisgender person. 

Many people believe that reblogging Laverne on Tumblr, liking her pictures, and referring to her by her correct pronouns suddenly somehow cures them of whatever cissexism and trasnphobia they had left in their bodies. By leaving cute emojis on Laverne's pictures, they don't have to answer to the fact that Trans women are being killed right down the street from them. By admiring Laverne's dresses, they don't have to listen to her when she talks about the high number of Trans suicides. By just embracing Laverne's beauty, they have done their good deed, and Trans people are now accepted in Hollywood, and in their everyday lives. 

This simply isn't true. Laverne is a person. She's an intelligent human being with a passion for helping others. She is more than her appearance, and she is more than her fashion sense. She is a talented actress and advocate. She is not the poster-woman for Trans acceptance.Yet every time she speaks on Trans issues it seems to go in one ear, and out the other for most Americans. People embrace Laverne, yet continue referring to Trans people using the incorrect pronouns, and remaining silent on Trans issues. 

The same can be said of Lupita. Even though Lupita isn't as activism focused as Laverne is, she has spoken on racism before. She rose to fame for a movie about slavery! She's mentioned colorism in her awards speeches, and has had multiple interviews acknowledging her Blackness. So why aren't we talking about the huge elephant in the room? Why aren't we talking about the fact that it's a HUGE deal for a dark-skinned woman to see someone with Lupita's complexion rising to fame? Why aren't we discussing the fact that it's extremely odd for someone with Lupita's skin tone to be on People magazine, and the face of Lancome?

Lupita becoming famous won't change the fact that I can never find my shade of makeup at the drugstore. It won't change the fact that dark-skinned women have been statistically imprisoned longer than their lighter-skinned counterparts. It won't change the fact that no matter what I do, I will constantly have to fight to be seen as feminine, and non-aggressive. Does it help? Yes. Does it erase colorism? No. 

Also, Lupita and Laverne are both wealthy and famous. Many Trans people don't have the option to "pass" as cis like Laverne can. They don't have the money or the access to proper healthcare. They fear walking down the street, applying for jobs, doing normal tasks. Lupita is beautiful, but she also maintains a lot of Eurocentric beauty characteristics. Despite her dark skin and short hair, she is small and petite. She has straight and white teeth, and acne-free skin. She has a thinner nose for a Black person. So while it's great that she's getting fame and recognition, it's very easy for someone to like one of Lupita's pictures, then refer to dark-skinned girls as "roaches" on Twitter. 

While a lot of White women are famous for their appearance and not their intelligence, it's different for Black women. When people like White women as celebrities, it's not pointed to as the ending of misogyny. However, when people like Laverne or Lupita, it's named as an example for transphobia and colorism fading out. 

Lupita and Laverne are great, and they deserve every ounce of recognition they recieve. However, it's important to recognize that while their fame represents big steps in terms of representation, there's still a lot more work to be done. 

 
Images by Freepik